Reluctant Goodbyes
by Dark Glass Marionette
Summary: Set during the movie. Galahad muses on Dagonet's passing and his own freedom while Gawain offers some comfort. It's always hard to bid the dead farewell.


**A/N: **Another contribution! Galahad-centric this time, because I could not get over the distraught look on his face after getting his discharge papers from the bishop, pretty much after Dagonet's death. He needed a hug, seriously. And now, enjoy!^^

**Disclaimer: The usual applies; I do not own this.**

**(Special shout-out to **Kristall**: thanks a huge bunch for all your reviews! I just got your most recent one and I'm going to sleep with a nice smile on my face. Thank you!^^)**

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Galahad didn't like being alone.

Scratch that: he _hated_ it.

As irony would have it, loneliness was his only companion now and as much as it bothered him, he needed to be alone for a while, at least until he was calm enough to be able to face the knights again.

But Galahad was anything _but_ calm. In every heavy breath he took, he could feel his anger growing and his heart speeding up. He inwardly recited every curse known to man and looked at the scroll in his hand. Hard to believe the first time he'd seen it in the wooden case, Galahad had been about to jump over the table, snatch it and run away like a mischievous child who had just claimed his prize; now, he felt willing to burn it and never lie eyes on it again. It had no meaning to him now; it was just ink on parchment, something hollow of no intrinsic value. To think he had risked his life for something as _banal_ as a scroll... That wasn't it, though, and Galahad knew it well. What truly bothered him was that that simple scroll was meant to have given him his freedom; instead, it had robbed him of every desire to go back home.

Because not everybody would be going with him. Galahad clenched his jaw, unable to take his mind off the matter. Dagonet, their most recent loss, had also shared Galahad's eagerness to return to Sarmatia. Though he hadn't been as eloquent or expressive as Galahad himself, the knights knew of his yearning to step foot on Sarmatian soil once more. Galahad had been looking forward to journeying back home with Gawain and Dagonet; another shattered hope. And it wasn't the Saxons that had taken Dagonet away from them, no: it had been the Romans. The very same Romans Arthur had chosen allegiance to. He'd heard Guinevere on their way back to the Wall: people who took what did not belong to them. Dagonet had never belonged to Rome -_none _of the knights had-, and yet they had been taken away one by one. Galahad was not the vengeful type, not in the least, but he nevertheless felt agony tugging at his heart; agony that, if it wasn't for his self-control, would've driven him to confront the Romans.

They weren't worth the time, so that's why Galahad remained seated where he was, staring off into the horizon.

He heard footsteps behind him -Gawain, for certain- but ignored them.

"You really need to work on your happy face, Galahad." Gawain sighed at Galahad's silence, then took a seat next to him. "Sorry about that."

Galahad shrugged. "It's fine. You won't see me happy in a while, though."

"For the first time in my life, talking to you is being uncomfortable. Is it what I think it is?"

Galahad nodded. He bit his lip and tried not to give too much importance to the knot forming in his throat, but it hurt so much he had to swallow several times. In silence or with words, Gawain always had that effect on him: he'd make Galahad open up whether he wanted to or not. It had happened ever since they were boys, so this time wouldn't be an exception. "I just... I just thought it'd be different. I really _really_ wanted to ride back home with you and Dagonet by my side and... and now he's gone... And everybody else is, dammit!" Tears welled up in Galahad's eyes but he wouldn't let them fall, not when he'd done so many times in the past. "And it's not Arthur's fault, I know that... Damn Romans... _They_ took Dag away from us, _not_ the Saxons!"

Gawain put an arm around Galahad and sighed again. Gawain's silence was expected; Galahad knew his friend well enough to know he was better with gestures than with words, never mind his sense of humor and ever-present willingness to strike up a conversation. Then, Gawain said, "You know, consider it naive and stupid on my part but after losing Percival... I thought nobody else would die." Galahad looked at Gawain with piqued interest. "And then Tristan and I lost Dinadan and Gaheris, respectively. I thought I'd learned the lesson, but then I told myself again that nobody would leave us. And now this: Dagonet's gone. I'm in your very state right now: despaired, depressed and with no desire to go back to Sarmatia."

"How'd you-?" Galahad begun, surprised, and Gawain cut him off with a brief smile.

"I know you what goes through your head; I could see it in the glare you shot Lancelot." Gawain narrowed his eyes at the horizon, as if pensive. "And I just noticed my speech was pointless. Bah, better leave that to Arthur."

"It wasn't pointless; improvised, but not pointless," Galahad replied with a small smile of his own. He then clenched his fists, scowling. "I'm so mad I could stab somebody right now."

"Whoa, leave _that_ to Tristan. Even he wouldn't do that, though." Gawain kindly ruffled Galahad's curls. "Arthur is likely to bear the weight of Dagonet's death but before _you_ do, because I know you fancy this sort of guilt trips, I tell you this, Galahad: it was _nobody_'s fault. Dagonet knew what he was doing; he wouldn't have risked his life if he didn't know what would become of him. Besides... Bors said it best: he's already free. He doesn't need this sucky scroll to tell him that."

Galahad nodded in half-hearted agreement. "I would've liked to see him enjoy his freedom in this life, though."

"Not any more than Bors, but I understand," said Gawain. "Me, too. He was a special person."

The mention of 'special' made Galahad think back to his early years in Sarmatia. He'd lost his father when he was six, and both Galahad and his mother had mourned him for days. His mother recovered sooner than Galahad and upon being asked how and why, she had answered,

"_Because I know this world will no longer hurt him. He may have left you and I to mourn him, but the pain our weeping causes him will only leave him chained to this land. So that's why I smile and rejoice. I know it's difficult, Galahad, but you should, too. At least, nothing and nobody will hurt him anymore."_

He had found it hard to have his mother's words in mind despite having remembered them each time somebody close to him had passed away. Perhaps she was right, though, and none of the knights had wanted to be mourned but instead be left to join the other world, if there was any beyond this one.

"At least, nothing and nobody will hurt him anymore."

"Hm?"

Galahad realized he'd spoken aloud. "Nothing. It's... something my mother told me once."

"Positive thinking, that one," Gawain said, showing Galahad he had heard every word. "It sure is a different take on things. And there's something Gaheris told me that I constantly have in mind."

"What's that?"

Pain and longing flashed through Gawain's eyes as he spoke, but he still had that smile on his face. "He said that there are some people that aren't meant to be born. Not because of any cruel reason in particular, but because they have a purity in them that the world around them will only taint." He chuckled. "That was Gaheris being sentimental, but it struck me so hard I can't get it out of my head."

And it had struck Galahad even harder, so much that now he was actually crying like the young boy he had left behind not so long ago. Again, Gawain brought him closer to offer as much comfort as he could. Galahad tried to regain his composure several times, but he only succeeded after inwardly berating himself for acting like a kid. He couldn't help it, and he was aware Gawain understood best of all.

Galahad wiped his eyes and cheeks dry with the back of his hand, then stood on shaky legs. Gawain followed soon after, a concerned look on his face. Silent, Galahad began his walk uphill when Tristan suddenly came into view. The scout, though in his usual impassive mood, had a glint of sadness in his eyes that Galahad had never seen before, at least not since Dinadan had passed away.

"We've brought him up to bury him. You should come."

Galahad sucked in a deep breath before following Tristan to the cemetery. It was time to say goodbye to an old and close friend.

And maybe, to pray that wherever Dagonet was now, nobody and nothing could hurt him anymore.

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_A/N: I struggled with this one, even though I knew what I wanted to write and how. I hope it came out nicely._

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_

_PS: Wait, they're not reviews anymore; now it's "comments". How much does the site change suck, man? xD  
_


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